


Can't Say It Enough (Or At All)

by hale



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Auror Partners, M/M, Oops, Porn with some plot, Post-Hogwarts, but i don't write a lot of dialogue, but like, i like to read a lot of dialogue, i'll work on it, or maybe there's no plot, sorry - Freeform, well if you squint there's 6 plots, you really have to squint
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-10
Updated: 2019-03-10
Packaged: 2019-11-14 21:08:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,734
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18060161
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hale/pseuds/hale
Summary: Five times Draco almost tells Harry how he feels.The one time Harry beats him to it.





	Can't Say It Enough (Or At All)

**Author's Note:**

> I do this thing where I write and finish a story all at once and then can't do it again for months. Here's the story that came in one night after months of nothing. I'd keep it to myself to edit and re-edit, but it's never one re-edit. It's dozens of re-edits till eventually I trash the whole thing and I don't wanna do that anymore. I just wanna write, do a quick edit, and post, because I promised myself I'd write and share more things just for the sake of writing and sharing more things. So. Here's one of those things and I hope you like it friiieennnnds okay bye!!

**i.**

The first time Draco wants to say it is during their first flying lesson. It threatens to make its way out of his mouth when he sees how skillfully Potter flies up into the air - despite having never flown before that day. It's a childish reason to almost tell someone something so intense, but it's how it happens, regardless.

Instead, he throws Neville’s remembrall as far as he can and watches Potter fly off into the distance. He’s relieved for the first time at Potter’s incessant need to _do good_ , because it means that he’s no longer face-to-face with him.

He thinks about it often for the next couple of weeks - or maybe, depending on how you look at it, he never _stops_ thinking about it.

  


* * *

**  
**

**ii.**

The second time it happens is when Draco is pretty sure he’s dying. Or dead. He thinks he may already be dead, but he's looking up at Potter and he thinks that wherever he goes in the afterlife isn’t where Potter is going, so he’s probably alive. Regardless of wherever he is, everything begins to get fuzzy around the edges and it’s the moment that he’s no longer feeling any pain that he almost slips up a second time.

He’s probably dead. What harm could it cause anyway?

Luckily, as he opens his mouth to say it, he watches a blurred Harry get thrown out of his line of vision and the face he’s staring at has more creases and - oh, it’s Snape and whatever he’s saying, whatever he's doing - Draco is in white hot pain again, but it's getting better by the moment.

He doesn’t remember this until many years later when he’s healed enough from the memory to revisit it.

  


* * *

  


**iii.**

28 days after the Dark Lord’s defeat, there’s a knock on the Malfoy’s front door. No one in the house moves to answer it, because nothing good can come of it. If it’s a warrant to search the Manor, they Ministry will break the door down themselves. If it’s a reporter, they’ve already written the story with the angel they want and are just looking for a comment. If it’s anyone else, they’re either ready to use an Unforgivable or they’re lost.

The knocking continues periodically for another seven minutes before Draco can’t stand it anymore.

“My Mother and I have no comment. Publish your bloody article and -” he pauses, when he realizes that it’s not a reporter or the Ministry or any Witch or Wizard his front door.

“I thought you might want this back,” Potter says and reaches out his hand, Draco’s wand splayed across his open palm.

“A lot of good it’s going to do me once I’m sentenced,” Draco says, surprising himself with how hopeless and vulnerable he sounds. He takes the wand anyway.

“I wouldn’t worry so much,” Potter says, seemingly void of all concern and Draco thinks, _I wouldn’t worry if I were you either - you fought on the side that won_.

A few short weeks later - after days of questioning and testimonies and after his Mind Healer’s evaluation of him is read and reread to a room full of Witches and Wizard casting a judgement that will change his life - no one is even sure where to look when he hear the Minister call Potter’s name. Silence. Followed by light footsteps.

As Harry reads his character reference, he maintains eye contact with Draco the whole time. When Harry takes a long breath after he’s done, Draco almost says it again and he really would’ve this time, but the Minister’s throat-clearing cough stops him.

He’s not surprised when he’s cleared of all War Crimes.

  


* * *

  


**iv.**

Draco had only been cleared a few months earlier, but he had decided that applying to the Auror program couldn’t hurt anything but his pride. He didn’t think he’d _actually_ get in. So how, only seven short months after his trial, he found himself standing shoulder to shoulder with Ron Weasley during their first day of Auror training was beyond him.

Although no one explicitly does anything to make Draco feel out of place, there is obvious tension between him and the rest of the training class for the first few months. It’s not until he’s sitting by himself at lunch - for the 105th day of Auror training, not that he’s keeping track - that the tension breaks when two lunch trays are obnoxiously dropped down in front of him.

“Relax,” Harry says easily, noticing how Draco’s hand shot to his wand.

“Yeah, we just don’t feel like being arse to arse with the lot of them today,” Ron says cooly and Draco wonders idly when Weasley went from flailing and fumbling to calm and collected “I don’t know why the majority of our training class has to sit at the same lunch table. As if we don’t already spend enough time together.”

Draco says nothing on the first day and mostly stares down at his lunch tray, even though he can feel Harry’s eyes on him the entirety of the hour they’re there.

This becomes their new routine.

Within two months, others in their class have joined their lunch table. Still, Harry always sits directly across from Draco. And Draco can’t - or rather, doesn’t want to - identify why even though he may no longer feel like a social pariah, he still finds comfort in having Harry right there with so many other people around.

It’s the 167th day of Auror training - his 62nd day of not sitting alone during lunch - when he almost says it again.

The chatter is louder than normal today, because it had just been announced that once they graduate - for the first time in the program’s history - they’ll be allowed to choose their own Auror partners.

“Hey,” Harry says and it’s softer than how everyone else at the table is speaking, but Draco is always listening for his voice, “wanna be mine?”

“Be yours?” Draco asks and his heart is beating so loud in his chest, he can hear it.

“Be my partner,” Harry clarifies, “you know - after we graduate.”

“Ron,” Draco huffs out because _surely_.

“We already talked about it and decided we get enough of each other outside of work already. There’s no reason we need to share our entire lives.”

Draco just stares at him dumbfound.

“I mean - you don’t have to,” Harry hurries, “it’s just - well, I thought we’d make a good pair. You’re cool and calculated where I’m admittedly sorta reckless and even though your attention to detail is going to make sure you a great Auror, my drive to just do will help in last minute -”

“Harry,” Draco interrupts suddenly, “I love -" he coughs, "I would love - I’d like that.”

“Yeah?”

Harry lights up in the way that only he can; where the corners of his mouth almost seem to meet his ears and his eyes squint from the intensity of his smile taking over the rest of his face.

And Draco had known from their first day on the broom, but he had tried so hard to keep it pushed down inside. He had locked it away between his ribs, but this is the moment where he can feel the realization rise and rise until his heart literally aches with it.

In no uncertain terms, he loves Harry Potter.

  


* * *

  


**v.**

Draco needs _someone_ to understand how _well_ he was doing.

Despite the underlying knowledge that he loved Harry, explicitly and irrevocably, he made all of the moves he was supposed to make. He saw other people - some at dinner and some exclusively in a bedroom. He intentionally didn’t read the Prophet when it ran yet another article about Harry being out with some bloke, in order to avoid the pang of jealousy that always followed. He may have a fixed stare on Harry’s backside when he walked out of their office, but never anywhere else and certainly never when anyone else was around.

It wasn’t denial - oh, Draco always knew - but he did everything he was supposed to in order to live with it as peacefully as he could. For _two years_.

Until.

It wasn’t the first time everyone didn’t make it out alive, but it’s the first time their back up had shown up to a bloodbath. Draco hadn’t really meant to be as vicious with his counterattack as he had been, but one of the suspects attempted an unforgivable on Harry - only missing by centimeters - and Draco couldn’t think, couldn’t act, with any sense. He couldn’t tell you what spells he did or for how long he let a litany of curses fly from his mouth, but he knew the only thing that stopped him was Harry’s voice screaming his name over and over again and finally having his own wand expelliarmus'ed from his hand.

As soon as they make it back to the Ministry, Draco makes a run for it. He’s under the shower head for over an hour when he’s finally broken out of his thoughts by a voice - that voice.

“Draco,” Harry calls softly.

Draco sighs, turns off the water, wraps a towel around his waist, and takes a step outside of the shower. He’s going to have to face him eventually so it may as well be now.

“Listen,” Draco sighs when he sees him and then looks up at the ceiling so he can hold on to some semblance of clarity. “Right so - I know I lost my head. Don’t - I’ll do all of the paperwork and I’ll be the one who speaks with Kingsley tomorrow. You don’t even need to be there, okay? I don’t want any of this to come down on you and I’m sorry if I reacted too -”

He can’t even finish his thought, because suddenly he’s pressed up against the wall and there’s a mouth on his mouth and callused hands on his hips and it takes him longer than he’d care to admit, but eventually he reacts. He has a hand splayed against Harry’s chest and a hand tangled in his hair and their hips at pressed against each other and it’s all happening so fast that Draco can barely keep up, but it’s good, so good and then his towel drops. No, Harry pulls it from his waist and then Harry is on his knees. He’s looking up at Draco with wide eyes and flushed cheeks and then Draco’s cock is engulfed in warm, wet heat and it’s -

“Good,” Draco sighs, “So good. Fuck, Harry, I'm not gonna -”

Harry gives head like he lives the rest of his life, with abandon and enthusiasm. He hallows his cheeks and pushes down until his nose in buried in a bush of light curls and he doesn’t let up until Draco doesn’t have a single breath left inside of him except to say,

“Wait, fuc - I’m gonna -”

Harry’s eyes get big and he lifts his hand, gently squeezes Draco’s sack and Draco can’t move, can’t speak, can’t even breathe. All he can do is shudder as he watches Harry’s eyes glaze over as he swallows Draco’s come and releases his cock with a pop. Harry, moments later, shudders and comes across the floor at Draco’s feet. Merlin, Draco hadn’t even noticed - would’ve loved to watch or to help.

The the following moments are quiet, both of them whispering their own cleaning spells and finishing just in time for Weasley’s voice to interrupt them.

“Harry, are you in here?” Ron yells from outside the locker rooms.

Harry looks apologetically at him, Draco thinks, and quietly says, “I’ll see you tomorrow, yeah? We’ll go to Shacklebolt first thing in the morning. Together.”

Draco can only nod dumbly as Harry turns around and leaves.

Draco thinks it’ll be awkward the next day, but it’s not. Harry greets him the same as normal, with a sleepy “g’morning” and mumbled “thank you” when he sees the tea Draco prepared for him at his desk. Harry sits and works and helps with the overload of paperwork that Shacklebolt has given them and Draco is pretty sure Harry is going to act like nothing ever happened when, at the end of the night, Harry grabs him by the wrist as he’s walking away.

“Come over,” he says, soft and uneasy, like a beg without the _please_.

Draco can barely nod as Harry apparates them suddenly to his bedroom. Once they both catch their footing, Harry is on top of Draco. It’s all teeth and tongue and hands and hips, but once they make it to the bed, Harry slows it down.

Instead of a frenzied blowjob, Harry moves with precision. He takes his time undressing Draco. He peels each article of clothing off piece by piece and takes time to look at the skin he’s just uncovered. He gets acquainted with the curves of Draco’s spine, kissing each vertebrae. He's in no rush as he licks broad stripes across Draco’s hole and whispers encouragement each time Draco can’t hold back a moan any longer.

When Draco is thoroughly stretched and Harry flips him over so they’re facing each other, Harry pushes into Draco, slowly and deliberately. Draco is staring straight up at him when Harry bottoms out, his eyes shut tightly as he tries to even out his breathing.

And he looks so fucking gorgeous that Draco can’t keep it to himself anymore. He has to say it, even if it makes him a horrible cliché for saying it during sex.

He doesn’t _want_ to keep it to himself anymore. So he starts,

“I lo -”

“Fuck,” Harry sighs, loudly, completely unaware he’s interrupting, “You have no idea how fucking incredible you feel.”

All of Draco's thoughts are lost as Harry starts thrusting shallowly, giving time for Draco to get accustomed to it, although it’s not long until he’s fucking into Draco senselessly. He’s offering praise like Draco is the only God he’s ever known and Draco, like the day before, can’t do much more than take it. Draco comes first, untouched, which he never believed was actually possible until the moment he does it. Harry follows shortly after, spilling into Draco.

They lay next to each other for a few minutes, catching their breath and after a cleaning spell Harry casts on them both, Harry rolls on his back and looks over at Draco with wide eyes. He seems like he wants to say something, but his mouth keeps parting and closing and while Harry flounders with whatever he’s trying to say, Draco decides quickly that he has one of two choices. His first choice is to stand up, dress himself, and leave. He could go back to his flat and pretend like none of this happened. Or -

“I’m hungry,” Draco announces and leans back against Harry’s headboard, “and I’m pretty sure, after that, I deserve some take away.”

Harry laughs. They end up ordering Thai. The next night they order Korean BBQ. The day after that, when they’re at Draco’s place, he cooks them Italian.  


  


* * *

  


**\+ 1**

Their flat is so silent that Draco hear the soft chatter of the songbirds outside. The sun is spilling through their kitchen windows and the shadows from it are dancing along top the counters. The smell of tea has already engulfed the room in its warmth when Harry comes pit-pattering into the space, rubbing the sleep away from his eyes.

“G’morning,” Harry says and it’s his normal morning greeting except instead of giving it in their office, it’s spoken into their kitchen and it’s not a work day, it’s Sunday.

Draco just offers a small smile and hands Harry his cup.

“Thanks,” Harry says in barely a whisper and takes a small sip, licking his top lip as he pulls away. He sighs softly as he leans back against the counter. He takes a look up at Draco and offers a lopsided smile.

And Draco can’t help it then. It has to come out. He opens his mouth to say it, but before he can, he’s interrupted like so many times before. Except this time it’s different. This time, Harry says,

“I love you.”

“Yeah,” Draco sighs and moves in to crowd Harry’s space. The other man doesn’t seem to mind as Draco moves himself between his outstretched legs and rests the side of his head against Harry’s shoulder. He just whispers contently, “I was just thinking the same thing.”  



End file.
